Wearing those skins
by Nina28
Summary: Wearing those skin, those memories was uncomfortable. Not that they had had a choice or a say in the matter. They did what they were told, when they were told, especially if it was the boss ordering them.


Wearing those skins, those memories was uncomfortable. Not that they had had a choice or a say in the matter. They did what they were told, when they were told, especially if it was the boss ordering them.

Dean Winchester's skin and mind was _interesting_. There was supposed to be scars on his skin, his memories had provided him with the exact locations, and yet there was nothing on the man's body, except for a tattoo on his chest...

Dean Winchester wore all his scars on the inside, intricate patterns of regrets, self loathing, forbidden desires and addictions.

He was a good man, deep down, and that alone made it feel uneasy. Dean Winchester hid his good heart as if it was something to be ashamed of, something he wasn't worth of, especially not after having been in hell and having enjoyed the pain he had inflicted on other souls while in there.

And boy...had Dean Winchester been good at it. It had to give it to Winchester: when he had let the darkness inside of him come out and play there had been screams and blood.

Too bad their angel buddy had saved him for the archangel's temper tantrums purposes. It would have liked to meet Dean Winchester in a few more years, stripped bare of his humanity, his heart ...and his brother.

His "brother" ...It couldn't help thinking of Sam Winchester 's role in Dean's life, and the label "brother" using giant airquotes. Brother...

_Yeah, right…_

...according to Dean's mind, to his blood...there was so much more to it. Something hidden in plain sight, something that broke them both apart and put them together over and over.

It couldn't understand what it was, exactly...and not because Dean lived so much in denial that he had fucked his way around all States and had locked his thoughts about the matter so tightly that it had taken a while for it to pry them open.

They had talked about it...long hours spent in that stupid car with nothing to do except compare notes about the two brothers, planning the next move and wait for the authorities to finally get their asses moving, had given them time to talk.

Messy, dysfunctional, intertwined didn't even begin to cover what Dean and Sam Winchester were to each other.

One thing it knew, though, it could be used...

It had to...

The camera was still in the dead boy's hand, its companion body close, heat radiating from Sam Winchester's body, the chemicals in their borrowed bodies acting and reacting on their own.

"Here..." The other said, looking around before reaching for the camera to place it on the table, were the cops would see it.

"Wait a sec..." It said, smirking, an idea forming in its mind...so deliciously _dirtybadwrong_ for human's standards, for Dean and Sam Winchester that it _had_ to be done.

The other turned, furrowing his brow, "What now?" it asked, a hint of petulance in its voice.

It moved toward its companion, a swagger in its step, muscle memory of a borrowed body kicking in, images of a shirtless Sam Winchester, his torso glistening with beads of water after a shower filling his mind, together with countless of other images that didn't mean a thing to it, they just served a purpose.

"Let's give those fuckers a show" It said glancing at the camera.

"What are _you _talking about?" It asked, still confused, still not catching up with its plan.

It was okay, though, it would show its companion what the game plan was very soon . The distance between them was closed in two easy steps, a hand on its companion wrist, firm and lingering, and It saw realization in its companion – Sam's – hazel eyes.

"Seriously?" It asked.

"Why the fuck not? Let's give them something to freak out over" It said and its smile was all Dean Winchester.

"Turn that thing on" It said, and they were now chest to chest, hips against hips, and apparently their bodies really liked the idea and were totally on board with its plan.

It took a moment for its companion to set up the camera, to keep it in a place where every move and gesture would be recorded for posterity and then it turned toward him: "Shall we?" It asked.

It smiled, turned toward the camera and cheerfully said, "Since we loved so much your hospitality here, we decided to give you a freebie" It winked at the camera and then turned to its right were its companion were, "Let's do that, _little brother!_"

Oh, that was going to be so much fun!

Kissing was a weird activity…not unpleasant, and it had apparently immediate effects on Dean Winchester's cock and on its companion's.

They didn't have much time, it knew that, soon the cops would be there, so they had to make the most of it.

It was distracted for a moment by the sounds its companion was making: moans and pants that were making its cock twitch with anticipation and judging by the hardness it could feel poking at its hip, Sam's body was even more aroused.

They moved fast, a synchrony that maybe was indeed written in their genetic material and in a lifetime of memories: lips and teeth – the fake ones, the human ones – tasting, scraping each other, hands roaming, exploring, nails digging in exposed patches of skin, and then Sam, on its knees, while it was perched on a table, a body behind him, the smell of blood and food all around them…and it realized that there was real arousal there, it was really craving release now.

Sam – and later, in a police station cell it wondered when it had started thinking about its companion as Sam – was chuckling, while keeping his hips still with his giant hands.

"Don't fucking tease" It hissed.

It felt Sam's hot breath against his cock, and its hand went immediately to Sam's nape, to guide him toward it, his mind hazy with arousal now…but not enough that it didn't know what it wanted.

"Or?" Sam asked, his hands burning hot on his hips, forbidding it to move, to shove his cock into its mouth and be done with it.

"Fucker…" It said.

And yes, things weren't exactly going to the plan.

"That can be arranged later" Sam replied, his voice low, just before his lips wrapped around its cock.

It was hard to concentrate, images of hidden and dark fantasies coming from Dean's memories, from his blood, mingling with the pleasure, blinding hot building at its spine. Sam's hands were still on his hips, not gripping him though, almost guiding him, as it moved.

All the fantasies Dean had ever had, were making it all hotter: Sam's mouth wrapped around his cock, the wet heat of his mouth, the tongue teasing, tasting It. Sam let go of its hips, allowing it to buck them as he took it deeper and deeper in his mouth.

"Goddamn…" It hissed and part of the pleasure was knowing, feeling, that Dean Winchester would have rather sliced his cock off than fucking his brother's mouth…than soiling his precious Sammy with his lust.

Its companion, though, didn't seem to mind, though, he – and it couldn't help thinking of him as a _he_, now…with his hot mouth, the sounds he was making and was prompting it to make -

"Sammy…" It panted, as it felt pleasure build up in its spine, and Dean's mind, memories and blood was painting all kind of delicious scenarios…making the pleasure more vivid, as it pumped its hips, forgetting for a second why they were doing that in the first place.

It gripped the edge of the table as it came, white hot pleasure leaving It breathless and it didn't even mind when it felt Sam manhandling it, into turn and his breath, burning hot against its jaw whispering, "My turn…and we don't have much time…"

Its companion kissed him, again…and it was different than before, there was hunger, now…and a different urgency as their tongues dueled and It turned, its hand trailing between their bodies, fingers unzipping Sam's pants, aftershocks of pleasure making it still shiver.

Sam tilted his head back when its fingers wrapped around his cock, exposing his neck, his hips jerking, fucking his cock in his tightly closed fist

"Wasn't exactly what…" Sam panted, "I had in mind…"

"Shut" a bite on the neck, hard enough to draw blood, "the fuck" it licked the bruise and the blood on Sam's skin "up!"

Only later did it think that the camera hadn't really captured the way he had jerked Dean's brother off: hard and fast…the camera had probably just captured their moans, Sam's filthy mouth as he came, his bruised neck exposed as he tilted his hed back, its name…Dean's name on his lips, said over and over.

It wondered whether its companion's mind was filled with images as well, if the real Sam Winchester had some dark fantasies of his own, if they involved getting on his knees and suck his brother off or if it was something else…

Something It didn't understand…

Something about love…


End file.
